


That Goddamn Possum

by sugaplumvisions



Series: paper tigers (Sportsfest: Team 29 Balls to the Face Main Round 2 Entry) [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Agender Azumane Asahi, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Comedy, M/M, Nonbinary Sugawara Koushi, Other, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25810852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugaplumvisions/pseuds/sugaplumvisions
Summary: When Asahi finds their birdfeeder empty after a long flight, they know it's that goddamn possum's fault.Again.This means war.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Sugawara Koushi
Series: paper tigers (Sportsfest: Team 29 Balls to the Face Main Round 2 Entry) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871071
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15
Collections: SportsFest 2020 Main Round 2





	That Goddamn Possum

Asahi soars through the sky on a fine summer evening. They hit an updraft just right, so that they only have to hold their wings out and glide. They caw in jubilation, laughing internally with the bliss of freedom, of flight. They’ve been out on their nightly flight for about an hour now; though bird brains aren’t exactly the best at estimating time, they’ve flown this route time after time, and by checking the clock in their kitchen afterward, they’re able to estimate about how much time each flight takes, and Asahi is gliding home. 

They come in a little too fast on the air currents, and almost overshoot their bird feeder, but manage to grip on the far end of it. 

Asahi’s stomach grumbles, or at least it would if they weren’t currently a bird. It’s a curious sensation, the pang of hunger that shoots through them. But they took their longer flight tonight, and they’re a bit too tired to cook. So they turn to their bird feeder, usually stocked with mealworms that human Asahi is afraid to touch but crow Asahi finds good eating, and find...nothing? 

It’s the possum. 

Again. 

They look down just in time to see something gray slip over their fence, and caw their anger at it. The possum looks back briefly, but then slinks down the fence to the other side.

Asahi goes and perches on their porch, easily turning back into a human, and goes inside, grabbing for their phone and dialing up their favorite pizza place. Delivery it is. 

As they lay on the couch waiting on the pizza, they try to count how many times they’ve lost the contents of their bird feeder to that goddamn possum, and realize that they can’t come up with it. Maybe they should stop stocking mealworms, but seeds tend to upset their stomach once they shift back to human, and something about the texture of suet makes their teeth itch (when they have any). No, the only answer is to get rid of the possum. It’s only a few more taps of their phone to order live traps. Then they can deport the possum somewhere far, far away, somewhere where it won’t bother Asahi anymore. 

Two days later, they get home from work to three bulky boxes on their front porch. The traps! They arrived quicker than Asahi expected, which is good because the possum has stolen their mealworms again in the interim. But now everything is going to be okay. Though first, there’s the rotten part: baiting the traps. 

They bait them with two of possums’ favorite treats: apples and canned tuna. Asahi pulls their shirt over their nose as they smear the abhorrent concoction over and inside the trap. But it’s going to be worth it. Asahi will catch the possum, and then they’ll be able to eat from their bird feeder again, and all will be well. 

After their hands are thoroughly washed, and only a little bit stinky, they call up Nishinoya. 

“Asahi-san!!!” Noya greets brightly. 

“Nishinoya! How are you?” 

“Doing good, doing good. We’re supposed to call tomorrow; what’s up?” 

“It’s the damn possum,” Asahi says. 

“Swearing, Asahi-san? Such a dirty mouth you’ve got!” Noya giggles. 

“I’m live-trapping it,” Asahi says. “I was wondering if Tanaka would ask his sister to drive me somewhere far, far away. I can’t exactly take a possum on the train.” 

“Maybe  _ you _ can’t,” Nishinoya says. “One sec.” 

He puts his hand over the microphone--Asahi can hear the gentle thwack of his fingers--and hollers. Despite the muffling, Asahi can hear it echoing off the sides of the cave. 

“Babe! Ask Nee-san if Asahi can get a ride to drop off the possum?” 

“That fucking possum again?” Tanaka calls from deeper within the cave. 

“Yup, that fucking possum!” Noya yells back. 

“I’ll call her!” 

“He says he’ll call her,” Noya says. 

“Swearing, Nishinoya? Such a dirty mouth you’ve got,” Asahi says, deadpan. 

“No, see, every friendship can have a sweary one. I’m the sweary one. You’re the pure one.” 

“I’m not pure!” Asahi protests. 

“That’s what you think,” Noya says. 

“I”m hanging up now,” Asahi says, and does so. They busy themself with the activities of everyday life, and when they get home from their flight that night, the mealworms are still there. They wake up late that night to the clang of the trap sliding closed, smile, and fall back into a deep, satisfied sleep.

They wake up the next morning, a Saturday, and excitedly hurry out to see the possum. There’s a squirrel in one trap. The other two are licked completely clean, but unsprung. 

That’s absolutely disgusting. Something, and Asahi knows in their soul that it was the possum, gorged on apples and tuna fish last night. Asahi’s hands still smell faintly of fish, and for what? Nothing? One measly squirrel? 

Asahi bends and lets the squirrel go free. They have no quarrel with it. 

Okay, step two: making a possum-proof fence. They research all day, and after much debating, they decide to go with chicken wire, bent outwards around the feeder. After an afternoon flight, after which there are again no mealworms, Asahi heads to the hardware store to buy a length of wire and some wire cutters. In the process of installing it, Asahi pricks their thumb on a length of cut wire no fewer than twelve times. This had better be worth it. 

The next day, no mealworms. And Asahi’s thumb still hurts. 

Okay. This is a personal vendetta now. Not that it wasn’t already, but now it’s war. Asahi searches and searches, and can’t find anything online about how to catch a possum in another way that wouldn’t kill it, and it’s deeply illegal to kill animals without a permit tied to a location, but  _ especially _ in a residential area, because of the chance of mistakenly killing shifters. How would Asahi like it if someone started shooting at them while they were out on a flight that happened to go over a corn field? 

Not that Asahi thinks there’s any chance it could be a shifter; why on earth would a human go to such lengths to steal from their bird feeder in particular? 

They watched cartoons as a kid. They’ve seen people trap each other in nets. So Asahi goes back online to order netting, rope, and a pulley. Yes, it sounds ridiculous, but desperate times call for possum nets. 

Once it arrives, they rig it up in the tallest tree on their property, the one that overhangs the bird feeder--but only 20 feet up, far too far for a possum to drop from safely. They tie the rope that attaches to the net to a branch a few feet down the tree and fill the bird feeder, smearing it with peanut butter for good measure. 

Now they smell like peanuts. At least it’s not tuna? They perch as a crow a few feet above the ground, ready to untie the rope and spring the trap whenever the possum arrives. 

When the possum comes, it pauses before reaching the bird feeder and looks all around. Asahi  _ swears _ that it looks up at the net before turning around and walking away. Was it a shifter after all? Maybe someone down on their luck and hungry? You’d have to be very, very hungry to steal tuna and apples, and Asahi would gag at the memory of the combination if they weren’t currently a crow. Even crow Asahi’s significantly less discriminatory taste buds wouldn’t tolerate that. Plus, why would a shifter keep coming back to their feeder instead of moving on to greener pastures? No, it absolutely cannot be a shifter. 

So Asahi waits. The possum must be on high alert from everything Asahi’s tried. Apparently they’re pretty smart creatures, and Asahi would appreciate having one around were it not nigh-literally taking the food out of their mouth. 

Asahi waits two weeks for the possum to calm down, and orders a new net and rope: green this time, to blend in with the tree. Yes, they’ve spent enough money for at least a few delivery meals on this whole thing, but Asahi is exasperated, and tired of eating delivery. They rig the rope up under dead of night, and leave it up for a few days before finally, finally, filling the bird feeder an absolutely normal amount, circling back around after leaving on their nightly flight, and hiding in the tree. 

Then it happens. The possum walks right up to the feeder, and Asahi drops the net down over the bird feeder. The possum is knocked down, hitting the ground with a squishy  _ plop _ , and struggles in the net.

Asahi blinks, and there’s a person struggling in the net. 

“Let me out you birdfucker! I know you’re up there in the tree!” 

Asahi blinks again, harder and more purposefully this time. They caw loudly. 

“Yeah, yeah, just let me go!” the person screeches. 

Somehow this is exactly what Asahi imagined a human based on that demon possum would look like, except instead of mangy and more than a little ugly, they’re...beautiful.

Asahi glides down to the ground and easily shifts from crow to human. 

“You wanna tell me why you caught me in a fucking net? Are you Looney Tunes, both literally and figuratively?” 

The possum shifter struggles a bit more before Asahi reaches the edge of the net and lifts. 

“My foot is stuck,” the possum person...persom? Posson?...says. 

“I’ll go get scissors,” Asahi says. “Then we’re going to have a talk.” 

Asahi rushes in and grabs the scissors off the kitchen counter. 

“I’m not handing you scissors as you seem very angry with me, but I’m going to cut you free now, okay?” Asahi asks. 

“Fine, fine, just get me out of here!” 

Asahi snips them free and they stand up, cheeks tinged with red on the high points of the collarbone. Whether from exertion or embarrassment at being caught, Asahi isn’t sure. 

“Azumane Asahi,” Asahi says, sticking out their hand for the possum to shake. They stare at it blankly. “Why do you keep stealing my food?” Asahi asks. “You’re not hungry, are you? I can give you real food. Not just mealworms.”

The possum shakes their head fiercely. “No, no. I’m just…” Their cheeks are definitely red from embarrassment now. “I hate cooking, okay? I hate grocery shopping. And I get hungry while I go on my nightly walk-around. Er, Sugawara Koushi, by the way.” 

“I get hungry too,” Asahi says. “That’s why I have a bird feeder in my backyard.” 

“I really didn’t know it was hurting you,” Suga says. “There’s not a lot of people in this neighborhood who are nice? Young? Either. I figured I was taking from some stuck up bastard.” 

“It’s still stealing,” Asahi says. 

Suga grins, and Asahi can see that their teeth are just a touch pointed, with a hint of the possum within. “It’s only stealing if you get caught, Azumane-san.” 

“Why  _ my _ bird feeder?” Asahi asks. 

Suga shrugs. “It’s nothing personal. I clean out two streets over for breakfast.” 

“Do you...ever eat real food?” Asahi asks. 

“It’s, uh, been a bit,” Suga says. They shrug, then look Asahi up and down, and there’s a gleam in their eyes that Asahi is both wary of and wants to know more about. “Tell you what,” Suga begins. 

“What?” Asahi asks. 

“What if I took you for real food? My treat for the food you’ve missed because of me.” 

“And thus a war ends, in the breaking of bread?” Asahi asks. 

Suga snorts. “A war? We were in a war?” 

“What did you think it was?” Asahi asks. 

“I’ll be honest, I got a little lost in the rush of getting around your traps.” Suga shrugs.

Asahi rolls their eyes. “Anyway, I’d like to get real food with you sometime.” 

“Does tomorrow work?” Suga asks. 

“Tomorrow,” Asahi says. It suddenly hits them that Suga is asking them out, and they begin to stammer. “Tomorrow, uh, works.” 

“I know your address,” Suga says. “You’re never getting rid of me now that I know you’re cute.” 

“I’m cute?” Asahi says, in some octave their voice hasn’t hit since puberty. 

“Yeah,” Suga says. They take two steps forward, stretch up on their toes, and kiss them on the cheek. “You’re cute. See you soon!” 

They grin again, flashing those sharp teeth that Asahi really shouldn’t find so attractive, and shift back into a possum. Asahi watches as they waddle away. 


End file.
